Flickering Flame
by Cerulean Pen
Summary: The gauntlet of his life had been passed on…but what about when Andy visit's a flickering flame of the gauntlet left? Can he heals the wounds of a girl that has been through a lot?


Flickering Flame

Summary: The gauntlet of his life had been passed on…but what about when Andy visit's a flickering flame of the gauntlet left? Can he heals the wounds of a girl that has been through a lot?

English Hurt/Comfort/Friendship Rated: T Chapters:1 Words: Andy D. & Bonnie

_Time Frame: Seven years since Toy Story 3_

_Bonnie's Age: Twelve years old_

"I'm so glad you could come Andy," Eve greeted, opening the door for twenty-four year old Andy Davis to walk into. The home hadn't changed since the last time he had visited: the same bright yellow walls, white and yellow furniture, each room airy and sunny. "Bonnie's been in her room for two days now, and she won't come out."

"I just hope I can help," Andy replied, already wondering what could make the twelve year old girl so unhappy that she would seal herself from her mother. "She's never acted like this before, she's been too happy and bright to be this way." _Unless she's hiding something, _he thought to himself, _but what would she hide?_

Eve let Andy upstairs alone, which he knew by heart: her bedroom door was the second door on the right. He knocked gently, not expecting to hear such a reaction from the usually agreeable girl.

"Go away!"

"Bonnie, it's me, Andy, can you please let me in?" he called softly, finding that the door was locked in too many places for him to try to open.

There was a brief pause before a short click and sigh as the door opened. Twelve year old Bonnie didn't look all that different from her younger self. Her dark hair was now shoulder-length, but her glimmering brown eyes still remained. She wore a green shirt and jeans, the jeans stitched with her own personal designs. "Why are you here?"

Andy closed the door behind him, leading her over to her bed, sitting down next to her. He took a moment to take in her bedroom: her own artwork hung on the yellow walls. Her comforter was now black with yellow crescent moons printed all over it. A large wooden work desk was covered with stacks of paper, paint jars, paint brushes, pens, pencils, and sketchbooks. "Bonnie, I came over here because I was really worried about you. Your mom says that you haven't come out of your bedroom for two days. Is something bothering you?"

She turned away a moment, but tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. With her turned around, Andy noticed something on her shoulder, which appeared when her shirt lifted a little at her turn. "Bonnie…" he started, carefully lifting the shirt strap to examine it, "is this a bruise?"

She hastily turned back towards him, covering the large, purple bruise back with her shirt. "It's nothing, I just fell down earlier, clumsy me," Bonnie rushed, her words spilling over the other.

Andy put his hand on hers, using his other hand to tip her chin towards him, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Bonnie," he began gently, hoping that his calming tone would get an answer out of her, "I want you to tell me the truth: did somebody hurt you?"

Without warning, the dark haired tween burst into tears, covering her eyes with her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. He wasn't expecting this reaction, so all he could do was put her in his arm, letting her cry herself out.

When her tears had run dry, leaving her with the kind of dry, hiccupping sobbing she hated, Bonnie was ready to tell him what was wrong. "Three girls at school on Tuesday hurt me…they hurt me really badly."

Andy was frozen a moment, a word of comfort balanced on his lips, not knowing what to say. In his mind though, he was mentally screaming at whoever would lay pain to this poor girl. It was a dumb thing to say, but it was the only thing he felt he could say: "Why?"

"They said that I was weird, and that I played with toys, and that I was ugly, and a scaredy-cat," she mustered, her voice breaking on every other word. "They were really pretty, popular girls, but they kept telling me all of these things _wrong _with me. After that, they hurt me…"

Once she trailed off, Andy tried to insert his own words into the empty air, but was still left speechless. Who in the world would say all of this about someone like Bonnie? Of all of the bullying, from psychology studying to experiencing it himself, he couldn't find a single moment where he felt this strongly about that. "How did they hurt you?"

"Mostly they just pushed me on the ground, hitting me, or just punching me. But, one of them knew one of my secrets: that I was afraid of water. Then, they kept dunking me in the fountain outside of the school," Bonnie finished shakily, the memory of being encased in nothing but water causing another tear to glide down her slightly freckled cheek. "They were right, I am a scaredy-cat."

His inability to say anything switched off right then, as Andy processed the statement. "Bonnie, don't you ever, ever think about yourself like that. Those girls probably think all of that stuff about themselves, but they rather take it out on other people. Just because you're afraid of something mean doesn't make you a scaredy-cat. Like you're afraid of water, I'm afraid of lightening."

She stopped a moment, looking up at him with her tear-filled eyes. "Really? I'm scared of water because when I was little, I fell into the deep end of the pool. Why are you scared of lightening?"

He paused a moment, sifting deep through the memories that floated around in his brain. "I guess since we were out hiking, and our car got hit by lightening: it was pretty scary, the entire car was on fire. But anyway, did you believe what they said about you?"

Bonnie nodded, but stopped short, like she had a sudden change of heart. "Do you think…do you think that they were wrong?" she asked softly, keeping the toy box visible out of the corner of her eye.

"Of course I do, those girls must be some of the most self-conscious in the world, because there is no way any of those things are true. You're not weird, you're creative: you're not a scaredy-cat, and most importantly, playing with toys doesn't mean a thing about you. It simply means that you want to hang on to your childhood for as long as possible," Andy explained, getting up to retrieve Woody from the toy box. The cowboy looked up at him with the same brown eyes he had for as long as he could remember. "I wish I had done that when I was your age: I'm glad you haven't forgotten about them."

"Of course not," she quickly said, taking him into her own hands, adjusting his hat. "I don't do it as often as I used to, but they're still very important to me. They watch over me, and I wish I could be as brave as Woody is."

"You can," Andy answered, closing her hand over the cowboy's body, "you can, Bonnie."

She hugged him, and he hugged her back, and he knew that flame of the gauntlet that passed hands would never go out.

**Okay, pretty cheesy story, but, hey, I really like both of these guys! (Bonnie and Andy's fears arise from fears that my sister has: I myself am terrified of fire.) I was also reading a list of ways to tell if you're obsessed with "Toy Story." I totally qualified for every single one, but that's just me. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!**


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